Sandwiches
by Lehua
Summary: This is actually my first fic, though it wasn't posted first. A BV fic.


**Sandwiches**

**One Shot**

The morning light cascaded through the latticed window upon the sleeping couple. The scowling man had his arms around the woman tightly, his body pressed against her, his face breathing in the scent of her long aqua hair. The woman stirred a little and he tightened his hold on her unconsciously, waking her from the realm of dreams. She opened her blue eyes and yawned loudly, her hand feathering across her mouth. Looking into the face of her lover she thinks, "Even in sleep he scowls." She traced his strong jaw line with her fingers, causing him to shiver under her touch. She smirked and continued to trace the features of his handsome face: his widow's peak, his small nose, his soft lips . . . . She felt his breathing becoming more irregular and he held her tighter to his massive chest. A smirk crossed his face as she gently nipped at his chin. He opened his coal black eyes and stared at her, studying her. She looked back into his, feeling once again the closeness, the oneness, the rightness. He leaned down towards her and placed his lips over hers. She shivered in response, trying to pull him closer to her, savoring his taste. She had finally found her Prince.

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Earlier . . .

Bulma sat back in her lab chair and sighed. Another long day gone. She glanced at the digital clock on her desk: 12:34 A.M. She needed a nice long soak in the bathtub. Her muscles ached all over from spending the day hunched over her desk updating the robots for the annoying Saiyan prince. She got up and started shuffling towards the door when realization hit her: 12:34 A.M.! "O Kami! I missed my date with Yamcha!"

Bulma bolted out of the lab and into the house, passing a very astonished Saiyan Prince along the way. "Woman-" he started but was cut off by her slamming the door. "Stupid woman," he muttered as he continued to walk to the house.

Bulma dashed up the stairs and into her room, looking for a blinking light on her answering machine. There was none. Bulma stopped dead in her tracks, confused. Yamcha didn't forget, did he? Bulma picked up the phone and dialed his number, forgetting about how late it was.

"Moshi, moshi," said a happy female voice.

Bulma was too astounded to say anything. She stood there with the phone in her hand, speechless. Who was this woman at her boyfriend's house at this hour?

"Hello?" the voice said, followed by a giggle and "Yamcha, stop that."

"Oh, baby, tell them to call back later: we're busy," Bulma heard the all too-familiar voice of Yamcha say.

"I'm sorry," the woman said. "You have to call back later. Kay?" followed by more giggling.

Bulma felt herself exploded. "No! It's not okay! And you can tell that two-timing asshole that I never want to see him again!" she said, slamming the phone down on the receiver.

Five seconds later the phone rang. Bulma picked it up, knowing who would be on the line. "Bulma, honey-" Yamcha started.

"Don't you Bulma honey' me! We're through for good this time Yamcha. Don't you ever call me back, and don't even think of crawling back either. This is it! You really screwed up this time!" she said and then slammed the phone on the receiver again. She stormed out of her room, down through the kitchen, and out the back door startling Vegeta again. She let out a high pitched scream and then came back in the kitchen, sat down on a chair, and slammed her fists down on the table.

Vegeta looked at her from behind the refrigerator door, his eyebrows raised. "Must have caught that weakling again," he thought to himself. He was a little curious why this time she was so violent, not the crying weakling that she usually was. He continued to rummage through the fridge, grabbing enough food to feed an army. He sat down at the table, making enough sandwiches to sate his hunger for now and one extra. He placed that one before the woman and started on his own food, careful not to look at her. He did not want to see her start crying or something, knowing how annoying she could get. Right now was not a good time to start an argument with her because he knew that he would never hear the end of it until she tired herself out, and he did not want to hear her high pitched whining all night. As it was she might be crying all night. "Great! The one night I want to get some sleep and she'll probably be whimpering the whole night through," he thought. He finished his food and put his plate in the sink, knowing that he had now "helped" her a little in the kitchen. She always got on him when he left his plate on the table.

She still had not said a word or even moved, so he turned to look at her. The sandwich still sat there and she was looking at it like it was a foreign object. Her initial scowl had turned into one of disbelief when he put the sandwich down in front of her. "Did Vegeta just make me a sandwich?" she thought. She finally tore her gaze from the sandwich to his face. She looked at him and he looked at her, his gaze cold and proud and . . . something she could not quite place. "Vegeta . . ." she whispered.

"Woman, eat the damn thing," he said emotionless, his muscular frame leaning against the sink, arms crossed.

Bulma looked back at the sandwich, and then got up, her chair scraping across the floor. She made her way over to Vegeta and stood close to him, their bodies almost touching. She looked into his eyes again, and he looked back as her, his breath caught in his throat. She saw a fire and a passion in his eyes along with the pride. Passion . . . passion for her? Bulma leaned against him slightly and brushed her lips against his. She felt him tense, and then relax, his arms snaking their way around her waist. He pulled her close and kissed her passionately and deeply. She had never been kissed like this before, with such a passion and fire. Yamcha could never compete.

She felt her arms make their way around his neck, never breaking the kiss. She leaned against him more, crushing her body to his. His arms tighten possessively around her. Bulma opened her mouth, inviting him, and she felt Vegeta's tongue slip in, feeling her, tasting her. She did the same to him, savoring his taste.

And then suddenly he was gone. Bulma almost fell forward into the sink. She shot out her hands and felt them connect roughly with the counter top. She let out a sharp hiss as pain shot up her arms. She turned and found Vegeta no where. She leaned against the counter, trying to steady herself and calm her heart beat. She placed a shaking hand on her head and sighed raggedly. What had just come over her? It was only a sandwich.

She sat back down at the table and looked at the sandwich. No, it was not just a sandwich. Vegeta had just shown that he cared, in his own little way. That was what it was. This sandwich just proved that the Saiyan Prince cared about her. He did not say a thing to get her upset; he even put his plate in the sink. Vegeta cares?

Bulma ate her sandwich in silence, thinking about her relationship with Vegeta. Given, the man had the body of a god. He knew every button to push when it came to arguing with her. Yet, when she was really down and out, times like these, he never got on her case. And though he could be cruel and overpowering and mean, he only pushed her as far as she could handle. And he made her life just a little more exciting, a little more fulfilling in a way. Besides Yamcha he was the only other man in her life, and besides Goku and Chichi, the only other friend. Friend? Did she really consider him a friend? Possibly, in his own little nasty way, he was a friend. He was there when she needed him, and she could count on him when she was in trouble. He was like her security system. One time someone got passed her own security system for the house and almost killed her. Vegeta was there in a flash incinerating the guy until he was nothing but ash. It was quite endearing to her, but he had just laughed it off and said, "Woman, I need you to fix that machine every time it breaks. I can't have bastards like these killing you." But she knew that it was something more than that.

And now she felt that same thing, like she knew he cared, only now he proved it. She didn't know what to do: she loved Yamcha, but with Vegeta there was something deeper, something more passionate. Maybe she didn't really love Yamcha. Maybe her experience with love was not really love. Maybe this was . . . .

Bulma shook herself and put her plate in the sink. "I just won't think about," she thought. She moved from the kitchen into the living room and plopped herself down on the couch. She grabbed the remote and started fishing, looking for something interesting. Before she knew it, she was out.

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For the next few weeks Bulma and Vegeta ignored each other every moment possible, which was not really hard. Bulma stayed in her lab and Vegeta stayed in his gravity machine. By some miracle he had not broken it in three weeks, so he had no need for Bulma to service it. Also he knew how to cook for himself so he did not need her to cook either. And Bulma, well she was just careful not to catch the Saiyan Prince all by her lonesome. It was only her and Vegeta on this side of the house, so it was easy to catch him alone. Her parents lived on the other side of the compound, some acres away from her own. They had built this side especially for her and Vegeta because they knew that Vegeta would have "special needs" and Dr. Briefs did not want to be the one to help him with is "special needs," so that only left her. Bulma, in the beginning was quite all right with the idea though Yamcha was not, but now she had begun to doubt if it was such a good idea at all. If the Saiyan Prince all of a sudden went crazy, she had no one to help her or even know that something happened. Sometimes weeks passed before any of her parents came over to visit, or she went over there. Vegeta did not have to exert enough ki to kill her or do whatever came to his sick mind, so there was no way any of the Z fighters would know until one came to visit.

But Vegeta was not the type do something; he had too much honor. She admired him for that; he had self control and knew that if anything happened, it would be against his honor. But there was always that if, just in case he reverted back to his old nasty self before he came to live with her. But that seemed unlikely. He seemed to like earth well enough, enough to make it his home since Vegetasei was destroyed.

Bulma was jolted out of her thoughts by a loud explosion that rocked her lab, sending some of her things on the desk to go crashing to the floor. Everything else in the lab was bolted to something—the floor, wall, whatever would not move too much for explosions such as these—since the first time an explosion left all her experiments in shambles. Bulma scrambled across the debris on the floor and ran out her lab in the direction of the gravity machine. She found it in pieces, electricity shooting out the open ends of the copper wires. It was a big mass of twisted wire and metal, and she saw no sign of the Saiyan Prince.

"Vegeta?" she called.

No answer.

"Vegeta?" she called again, more desperate.

Still no answer.

"Vegeta!" she screamed and started to pull apart the great mess that stood before her, acutely aware that if just one hot wire touched her the electricity would cook her body to a burnt crisp, and also aware that if Vegeta was underneath all this unconscious he would not make it in time to save her. She pulled and pushed her way through, not finding a shred of the Saiyan Prince. Her fingers were burning from the hot metal, and her nails were starting to tear and bleed. She felt tears streaming down her face, afraid that she would not find Vegeta, or, that if she did, he would be dead. Saiyan's could take a great beating and still be conscious; he should have be out of this already, yelling at her to fix it.

"Vegeta, you better not be dead," she muttered. "Please don't be dead," she said, crying harder as she continued to look and still found no Prince. She was growing hysterical now. Her whole body was shaking and tired, and the tears were starting to blind her; but she couldn't stop herself for a single moment because that might mean his death. "Vegeta!" she cried out desperately. She turned suddenly and felt a jolt course right through her body and saw a bright light flash across her vision. "Vegeta!" she cried out one last time before darkness took her.

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Bulma woke in darkness in her room. The door was slightly ajar and the hall light spilled in through the crack, illuminating a small part of the room. Bulma tried to get up, but her body shook with pain, protesting that her position now was just fine and that she did not need to get up. Listening to her body, she flopped back down on the bed, and saw a quick motion in her peripheral vision to the left, near the door. "Vegeta?" she called out in a weak raspy voice.

There was no answer. No, it could not be him because she looked for him and had not found him. He did not even answer her calls. And if he was found then he would be in the regeneration tank now. There was no way that could have been him. "It must have been all in my mind," she thought. Her parents must have found her passed out under the hot wires after she was unconscious and brought her into the house. That would explain why she was inside now. But that did not explain what happened to Vegeta. She needed to know if he survived.

"Vegeta, please be alive," she whispered, letting the tears fall down her face again. She turned onto her side, pain and all, and brought her knees up to her chest and cried. Her body shook with her sobs. She closed her eyes, trying to keep the tears in, but they continued to pour out of her. She needed him, wanted him, loved him. If he was gone, she would not know how to live. Love, this is what love must feel like. She had finally found her Prince, but to what cost? Possibly his very life. She sobbed even harder at the thought, her tears starting to soak her pillow.

Then she felt him, his strong arms encircling her and pulling her close to his muscled chest. She felt herself instinctively sink back into him, feeling on the brink of euphoria. She felt something in her break, and she turned around and threw her arms around him, crying harder out of relief. She could feel his heartbeat on her breast, hard and fast, very much alive. She clung to him, as if her life depended on it. And in a way it seemed that it did; she felt that if she let him go he would disappear and she would not be able to live. She cried on his shoulder, feeling his hand start to soothe her from her hair down the small of her back. He made circular motions with his hands, causing her to quiet down at the sensation. He started to whisper in her ear, pouring out comfort in a very UN-Saiyan-like way. She never knew he could be so gentle. Her crying eventually turned into moans as he continued to explore her body with his hands.

Forgetting the pain, Bulma brought her lips to the Saiyan Prince's, and she felt his rich and inviting. She moved her hands over his body, feeling the spot where his tail once was and pressing on it. She felt him shudder and a small growl escaped from his lips. He claimed her lips hungrily, and pressed her down on the bed with his body. Hands continued to roam over her clothed body, and then in a flash, over her unclothed body. She could feel the rough texture of the armor she made him on her body and she pulled at it, trying to tear it from his body. A smile formed over his lips as he felt her tugging, and he complied with her, removing his armor as fast as he removed her clothes. Then he was next to her again, skin to skin. Electric shocks coursed through them at each touch, and she laughed to herself thinking that was exactly what got them in this position.

"Woman," he said as he moved across her body, kissing every part of her. "What are you laughing about?" He kissed her lightly on the stomach and she laughed harder. He stopped and moved to look her in the eyes. His question still hung in the air.

He looked at her expectantly, waiting for an answer. She placed a hand on his face and caressed his cheek. "Vegeta . . ." she murmured. She brought his face close to hers and kissed him lightly. And then he was kissing her again, and the night went on.

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The present . . .

Bulma sat in her lab chair and sipped at her coffee. Vegeta was working out in his new and improved gravity machine and she was back to working in her lab. The vision of last night was still fresh in her mind, and she could still feel him. Looking at her digital clock, she realized that it was late, or early really: 12:34 A.M. She remembered back to that night of their first kiss. The clock had the same time. She got up from her desk and headed to the house, needing a meal and a nice hot bath. Vegeta was bound to still be training because he had missed about half a day because she needed to make a new one. That was good; her body still felt a little sore from the electrocution and her encounter with the Saiyan Prince last night. She smiled again.

Bulma ate a quick meal and made herself a cup of hot chocolate. She grabbed her robe and made her bath. Sitting in the water and sipping the hot chocolate, she smiled and leaned her head back onto the cold porcelain. Her body felt good and her soul was content. Vegeta filled that part of her soul that she thought Yamcha would. She knew that they would have their problems and that Vegeta would have a hard time expressing his feelings and such, but she knew he would be there when she needed him. "Vegeta," she sighed.

"Woman?" she heard a deep voice say.

She looked up and saw Vegeta floating above her, arms crossed. He studied her silently. The next thing she knew his clothes were off and he was behind her, washing her back with gentle caresses. She smiled and leaned back against him. He pulled her into an embrace and held her close to him, skin to skin.

"Woman, you never told me why you were laughing last night," he whispered in her ear.

She smiled and closed her eyes. "I just thought that it was funny how I felt sparks coming between us and how it took my electrocution to get us at that place." She felt him smile and make lazy circles on her stomach. "Vegeta," she said. "What happened last night? I mean, I know what happened last night, but with the gravity machine."

Vegeta tensed for a moment, and then relaxed again. "It blew up."

"Well, duh, I knew that. But afterwards," she said laughing.

He sighed and then said, "I was knocked unconscious. The next thing I knew you were screaming out bloody murder, but I couldn't move. I saw you as you were clumsily pulling away the wreckage—you can be such an idiot—" which was rewarded with an elbow in the gut by Bulma, "but, I couldn't call out to you. Then the wire touched you and I saw the electricity shoot through your body and your screaming became so unbearable that I forced myself up and got you out of there. I put you to bed and well . . ."

"Yeah, I remember the well," she giggled. "Vegeta?"

"Woman, you have a lot of questions," he said.

Ignoring his remark, she asked, "Why did you save me?"

Vegeta was quiet for a moment. Then he said in a rough voice, "Who would fix my gravity machine?"


End file.
